


Missing Pieces

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: (assumed anyway), Ambiguously unhappy ending, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Cover Up, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Mystery, POV Minor Character, Police investigation, Post-Episode: s01e08 The Defenders, Post-Series, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: Brett has always been good at solving puzzles, so when Matt Murdock is still missing weeks after the events at Midland Circle, he starts investigating. It turns out none of Murdock's friends are too concerned, and their behaviour is even outright suspicious. Brett starts putting the pieces together. The more he collects the more he thinks there's something really wrong with the picture he's getting. And Matt Murdock is looking more and more like a murder victim.





	Missing Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/9408.html?thread=18253504#cmt18253504

Brett was good at puzzles, always had been. It started out that he'd help his mom out with her puzzles that she had set up on the dining room table. At first she'd slapped his hand away, but when she found out that he was good at them, she let him help.

Turns out that jigsaw puzzles weren't the only kind of puzzles he could solve. He was good at mysteries too, which were pretty much puzzles, just with pieces that didn't always look like pieces, and where there was no picture on the box, and you had no idea how many pieces there were or if the pieces you had even fit into this puzzle or another one.

Brett was good at teasing out the important pieces from the unimportant ones. It was why he decided he wanted to become a detective.

 

Of course, that's not exactly how the system works, you don't just automatically become a detective just because you like solving mysteries. You start out as an officer, and if you're lucky, you move up.

It was getting to the point where he was sure he would be a sergeant forever when the whole Punisher thing came around and he was finally promoted.

Brett still didn't like Daredevil, but it was thanks to the man that he was promoted to a detective sergeant, so he was begrudgingly thankful.

 

Everything on the vigilante front seemed to quiet down a bit, at least in Hell's Kitchen. Daredevil apparently retired, and while there was that PI who really liked drinking, she wasn't in the hero business. There was the bulletproof man in Harlem, who Brett adamantly refused to even think about, and then some asshole with a glowing fist, but whatever. It was fine.

 

Then there was a whole shitshow at Midland Circle. First an earthquake, then a week later the entire building fell into the earth. And it wasn't like the week in between wasn't busy, because it was. Vigilantes crawling out of the woodwork, ninjas coming out in droves. Nelson and a handful of other people being kept in a Harlem precinct for their own safety, decapitated bodies and unconscious people and so many other puzzle pieces that Brett couldn't make any sense of.

 

Murdock went missing from that same precinct, possibly kidnapped by the other vigilantes. Brett wasn't sure if he believed that, since Murdock was damn stubborn and likely wouldn't allow himself to be kidnapped, but superpowers were involved, so he couldn't say for sure.

 

Then the entire damn building fell into the earth. One of the Harlem officers lost an arm, but as far as he could tell, no one was reported missing or killed. The vigilantes snuck out of the building as easily as they'd snuck in and disappeared into the darkness. There was a lot of rubble to clean up, a lot of paperwork to file, but although no one really knew what exactly it was that happened, it seemed like it wasn't something awful.

 

Things would have been fine like that, not exactly good, but at least fine, if there wasn't one huge puzzle piece out of place.

Murdock was still missing.

 

And worst of all, no one seemed to care.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brett could handle vigilantes going missing, Daredevil had done it before, Punisher was currently doing it (Brett honestly didn't think he could handle the stress otherwise), but that was a thing vigilantes did. Presumably, they had other lives to get back to, except maybe for the case of Castle. Whatever. The point was that he didn't particularly care about them. But Murdock he'd kind of gotten attached to over the years. He was an almost permanent addition to Nelson, first in college, then as business partners. Then not quite as business partners, but still friends, surely.

 

So when Murdock didn't show up for the first few days after the Midland Circle thing, Brett waited. Maybe the guy had taken a vacation; he deserved one. But then he heard the DA's office complaining about how Murdock wasn't in court. Murdock never missed court. He'd heard that the guy had shown up a few times looking like he'd gone a few rounds with the Hulk and lost, but he was always there.

 

So there was that.

 

Then Brett looked into the missing person's case that had been started for Murdock when he was taken from the precinct that afternoon.

He couldn't find it. It wasn't that there had been a case, and it had been closed with his safe return, it just didn't physically exist. There was no record of it anywhere, no electronic copy, nothing. If he hadn't heard the APB, he might have thought the whole thing was just a joke.

 

But Murdock was nowhere to be found, his apartment didn't look lived in since sometime shortly after the earthquake, if the damage was anything to go by, and none of his bank accounts had been touched.

 

Brett was starting to think that there was more to this puzzle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brett called Foggy. “Hey Nelson.”

“Brett?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah. I'm wondering if you've seen Murdock lately. I guess he's missed court, and I'm starting to hear some things.”

“Matt? No, haven't seen him for a while.”

“And that doesn't concern you?” Brett asked.

Nelson sighed. “Brett, you know we're not partners anymore. Matt does his own thing. We meet up once in a while for a drink, but it's not like it was in law school where I practically had a gps on the guy. He's an adult, living his own life.”

“Sure thing. Let me know if you hear anything, alright?”

Brett hung up.

 

Something about the conversation didn't sit right. Even if Nelson was telling the truth, that he hadn't seen Murdock in a while, and that they were living separate lives, he still should have been concerned by the fact that Murdock had missed court. They both knew how significant that was.

 

Brett tried Karen Page next, who had moved on to a job at the Bulletin.

“Karen Page.”

“Hello Miss Page, this is Detective Mahoney from the 15th precinct.”

“Is everything alright?” she asked, alarmed.

“I have no reason to assume otherwise,” Brett assured her. He was lying. He did that sometimes. “I'm just wondering if you know what Matt Murdock has been up to. We wanted to get a statement to follow up his kidnapping, but can't seem to get in contact with him.”

“I didn't think that it was your precinct that was investigating that?” she said suspiciously. Of course, she was a reporter now.

“It's been a busy time, and we just wanted to make sure this case was closed as soon as possible,” he told her.

“Of course,” she agreed. “I haven't seen him for a while, but I'll let him know you're looking to talk to him next time I get in touch.”

“Thank you Miss Page.”

 

She hadn't seemed worried. Brett didn't know a lot about Karen Page, but he did know that she was the kind to get worried, especially over somehow like Matt Murdock.

 

The more puzzle pieces Brett managed to get, the more he thought there was something really wrong with the picture they were making.

 

Cause that picture was that Matt Murdock was looking more and more like a murder victim.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brett found the name of the bulletproof man in a newspaper article. Luke Cage was Harlem's Hero. There was no number on file for him, nothing that Brett could dig up.

 

That left Brett with the asshole with the glowing hand or the angry PI. Considering that he had no clue who glowing hand guy was, it meant he was stuck with Jessica Jones.

At least her number was in the phone book.

 

After trying, and failing, to get through on the number, Brett finally just stopped by her office, which was also her place of residence.

No one answered when he knocked, but he could hear someone inside moving around and swearing.

Definitely Jessica Jones.

He knocked again, and again, and didn't leave.

 

“Jesus christ,” Jessica finally said, yanking the door open and squinting at him. “They're cheating on you, sorry about that, have a nice day,” she told him, trying to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the way.

She glared at him, and he glared back. They both knew she could close the door if she really wanted, hell, she could probably pick him up and throw him down the hall without breaking a sweat, but he doubted it was a risk she wanted to take.

She sighed. “Whatever.”

 

She sat down behind her desk, pointing her boot at the chair across from it.

“I can pretty much guarantee they're cheating,” she told him.

“Not why I'm here.”

She tilted her head. “Then why?”

“Missing person is still missing. Remember Matt Murdock?”

Jessica's eyes widened slightly before they went back to glaring at him.

“Blind lawyer. Yeah?”

“So you probably remember kidnapping him from a Harlem precinct the day a building fell into the earth.”

She shrugged. “I'm drunk a lot of the time.”

“Not really something you want to be admitting to.”

“Look, me and Luke didn't kidnap him, okay? We had a city to save, and a blind lawyer only would have gotten in the way of that. In all likelihood, Murdock saw an opportunity to make a break for it when we did.”

“Why would he do that?”

Jessica shrugged again. “Who knows why lawyers do anything? Maybe they would have found out he committed a crime? Hell if I know.”

“By all account, Matthew Murdock is an upstanding citizen. The worst thing he's done is end up with Nelson for a friend, and that was barely his own fault. You on the other hand, Miss Jones, have been arrested multiple times for assault, public intoxication, interfering with a police investigation, and most recently, on the suspicion of murder.”

“Pretty sure I wasn't charged with that,” she told him.

“Right. So you're telling me you never saw Murdock after you left that police station, and you haven't heard from him since?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Nope. Sorry. So if you're not here for a case, then...” she gestured to the door.

“I want to hire you to find him.”

She snorted. “You can't afford me.”

Brett glanced around her office. “A high class service you're running here?”

“Look, I don't have to take any cases I don't want to. This one? Don't want to. Now leave.”

Brett raised an eyebrow, but understood when he was being essentially threatened, and left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You remember Nelson's friend, right?” Brett asked his mother, who was working on a new puzzle, still on the same dining room table.

“Course I do. That nice young man. What was his name? Michael?”

“Matthew.”

“Yes, Matthew. The poor dear, lost his father when he was so young.”

“Right. Well he disappeared from a police station a few weeks ago, and no one has seen him since.” Brett slotted one of the pieces of a nearby flower in place.

“Hmm? You sure he hasn't just gone to find himself? I hear people are doing that these days.”

Brett rolled his eyes. “Matt's not that kind of guy. He's missed work and no one has seen him.”

“And you're thinking foul play, of course.” His mother huffed at him. “Always the police officer, seeing trouble where there don't need to be any.”

“His friends don't seem worried, one of the last people to see him denies that he was with her, and something about this doesn't feel right.”

Bess sighed. She set down her puzzle piece and looked up at Brett.

“This one of those things?” she asked him.

“Something isn't right,” he insisted.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders and picking up a different puzzle piece than the one she'd set down. “Next time Nelson tries to butter me up with cigars, I'll see what I can get out of him.”

“Thanks ma,” he told her, nudging her hand a little to the left where the piece fit in.

She swatted him away. “You have your own side to work on.”

 

* * *

 

His mother called him a few days later. Apparently Nelson had dropped by with cigars. Bess had gotten to making small talk, guilted him into staying for a cup of tea, then leaned in for the kill over coffee cake.

 

“You're right,” she told him. “There is something that boy is keeping secret about his friend.”

“Yeah,” Brett sighed. “I know. I was just hoping I was wrong.”

“You never were, not about the things that counted,” his mother told him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Armed with what wasn't entirely definitive proof of Murdock's disappearance, Brett continued his search with renewed vigor. He dug into Murdock's past, finding the original article that detailed his loss of sight, his father's death, his admission to Columbia on a full scholarship. He spoke to Murdock's neighbours, none of whom had seen him in weeks, since around the time of the earthquake. He attempted to pull names from his current case files, but they were all in braille, and Brett didn't exactly had a warrant anyway. (It wasn't breaking and entering if the door from the roof was unlocked, he figured.)

His most recent case and its verdict were public knowledge though, and Brett found a contact number for the mother of Aaron James.

 

“Oh, no I haven't heard from Mr Murdock since the verdict,” she told him. “Everything has been so busy for us, and for him too I'm sure. Thank him for us again, alright?”

Brett agreed to do so, and hung up.

 

Murdock's bank records still showed nothing, no one he talked to knew anything, and there was only so far he was willing to go as an invasion of privacy.

And every time he brought up the man's disappearance to colleagues at work, hinting that it might be time to reopen (or open, since he still couldn't find the original file) a missing person's case, his supervisors shot him down. They were polite at first, redirecting him to more pressing issues, but as time went on, as the weeks turned to months, he was getting warnings, reprimands even.

 

By then, Brett was of one of two opinions.

One, that Murdock had never really existed, that he wasn't a real person, that everyone was mostly just entertaining Brett's delusions in order to be nice to him.

He didn't like that option.

Or two, that Murdock was real and had existed, and was now indeed missing, but there was an elaborate conspiracy that all his friends, hell, even acquaintances, seemed to be in on.

He liked that option even less.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brett got desperate enough that he went back to Jessica Jones for help, asked around Harlem for Luke Cage, tried matching glowing fist's face to a name, none of it worked.

 

So he tried Daredevil.

 

He wasn't sure exactly how Daredevil knew he was needed. There were suspicions that the name was literal, that he was a devil, or _the_ devil, and that's how he knew. Brett didn't believe that. He figured in a world with gods and a Hulk, surely someone could either hear people asking for help, or know when they needed it. Super hearing? Some kind of sixth sense for danger? Psychic? _Something._

So he tried asking. He tried begging. He tried praying and threatening and even making deals, but there was no Daredevil.

 

Maybe the guy had returned to retirement again, now that the world wasn't crumbling.

 

Brett gave it one more night of Daredevil watch before he'd abandon that avenue. There really wasn't much else he could do. He'd exhausted all other methods of inquiry. Short of bringing in Nelson for a formal interview, during which he probably wouldn't get anything, there wasn't much else he could do. Maybe another crack at Jones?

 

On the top of the building across the street, there was movement.

For a second, Brett thought he'd imagined it, but as the figure kept moving, he could make out a shape.

 

“Daredevil!” he yelled.

The figure stopped.

“Stay there, I need to talk to you.”

 

Without a second's hesitation, Brett scaled the fire escape to reach the top of the building.

 

When he got the to the top and pulled himself over the side to confront Daredevil, he froze.

The build was all wrong, the moves were all wrong, and most obvious of all, the man's hand was glowing.

 

“You!” Brett accused.

“Um,” impostor Daredevil said. “Me?”

“Get down,” he warned, aiming his gun at the man.

“Wow okay, calm down, everything's fine,” the guy said, raising his hands. The one was still glowing.

“You're not Daredevil,” Brett said. “Why are you pretending to be him.”

“Funny story, actually,” the guy said, lowering his hands.

“Up!” Brett ordered.

“Whoops. But anyway, I never was intending to be Daredevil? I was just gonna be me, but then I figured I should cover my face, but apparently that's how Daredevil used to do it, cause I looked it up after people kept calling me that, and I did look a lot like him, so I figured I'd just go for it, you know?” he shrugged.

“Daredevil is okay with this?” Brett asked.

The man looked confused. “Yes?”

“Try again,” Brett ordered.

“He asked me to!” the man said, a little high pitched. “I mean, not to dress as him, but he did ask me to take his mantle on, as it were, so I'm just trying to do that.”

Brett narrowed his eyes at glowing fist man, but lowered his gun. “Got a name?”

“D- um, Iron Fist,” the man stuttered.

“Iron Fist. Right. So are you doing Daredevil's thing now?”

Iron Fist, jesus that was a stupid name, shrugged.

“I'm looking for a missing person,” Brett said. “I've tried everything else. I was going to ask Daredevil for help, but since he's retired or whatever, I guess I'll try you.”

Iron Fist's face flickered in the dark, but Brett couldn't decipher it.

“Missing person? Yeah, okay, I can try that, sure.”

Brett rolled his eyes. This guy had to be a kid, in his twenties at most.

“Matt Murdock. Need me to spell it?”

He froze.

“Hey, you okay?” Brett asked, a little worried the guy was going to have a seizure or spontaneously drop dead. That would be too much paperwork and not fun.

“Uh, yeah. No, I don't need you to spell that. I'll, uh, see what I can find out. Okay, nice talk, bye,” Iron Fist stammered out, running across the roof as soon as he could. He had nothing like Daredevil's style or abilities, but he did have a glowing fist, which had to count for something.

“Idiot,” Brett scoffed. “You didn't even get my name.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Armed with an alias, Brett took to the internet. Reports of an 'Iron Fist' were mostly vague, blogs run by teenagers in New York, a boarding school that was probably more of a detention facility, and at least one dominatrix.

 

Switching to the police database, there was just as much nothing- until he found a report from a psychiatric hospital that had been filed as part of a police report. According to a psychiatrist at Birch Psychiatric Hospital, a man had been brought in who claimed to be Danny Rand, and also claimed to be something called an Iron Fist.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brett showed up at Rand industries the next morning, used his badge to get upstairs, and found himself talking to Danny Rand's secretary.

Megan told him that Mr Rand hadn't been in the office much, and rarely kept anything of a consistent schedule. Apparently his role with the company was pretty superficial, and more in name than anything else. From what Brett dug up, it was probably for the best. Just because the kid owned 51% of the company didn't mean he should be making decisions.

 

“It's kind of important,” Brett told Megan. “It's about an investigation.”

Megan's eyes widened. “Oh, of course. I can give you his private work number, if that would help.”

Brett smiled at her. “That would be perfect.”

 

As soon as he was back in his car, Brett dialed the number Megan had given him.

 

“Rand,” Danny answered.

“Mr Rand? Or should I call you Iron Fist. Which do you prefer?”

“Uh...” Danny said eloquently.

“Right. I won't take up too much of your time, but I am going to need to speak to you in person. You want to do it at my place or yours?”

Danny muttered something about not wanting to go to the police station if he could help it, and instead gave Brett an address.

 

Finally. Progress.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The address was for a dojo in Chinatown that he'd never seen before, but he also never really had reason to be in Chinatown. He'd looked up the records for the place on the way, and it turned out Danny Rand owned the whole building.

Sure.

 

He knocked on the door, and the woman who let him in he recognized as one of the people in protective custody at the time of Murdock's kidnapping. He mentally added her to the list of people to talk to.

“You're here to talk to Danny, right?” she asked, glaring at him.

“Yes. We spoke on the phone.”

“I know you did. Danny!” she called, and gestured him inside. The room was open, with padded columns and soft mats. The woman disappeared through a sliding door that led to a tiny apartment.

 

Danny Rand was sitting on the bed.

“Detective,” he greeted.

“Mr Rand,” Brett said back. He looked pointedly at Danny and the bed until he got the hint.

“How about the kitchen table?” he suggested. The kitchen was in the same room as the bed, which was the same room everything else was in.

Brett took a seat, pulling out his notebook and flipping through it. Danny seemed anxious to get the discussion over with, but Brett didn't plan on letting him off that easy.

 

“So you're the Iron Fist who's been running around Hell's Kitchen at night,” Brett said, looking at Rand's face for a reaction.

“Uh, yeah,” Danny admitted.

On the bed, the woman sighed. Brett got the sense she didn't like the way the conversation was going already.

“So you were part of the events at Midland Circle.”

“Yes?” Danny said slowly, looking at the woman on the bed.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Too late to start denying anything now, there's witnesses to that.”

“What's your association with Luke Cage?” Brett asked.

“I like him. I don't think he really likes me though.”

“Are you friends? Coworkers? Acquaintances?”

Danny shrugged. “Probably not quite friends.”

“What about Jessica Jones. What's your relationship with her?”

Danny laughed. “She doesn't like anyone.”

Brett had to admit that was probably true. “But you've met her and worked with her on at least one occasion, correct?”

Danny shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn't call it working,” he hedged.

“She was involved in the events at Midland Circle, wasn't she? Just like you were?”

Rand nodded.

“Daredevil was also involved at Midland Circle, wasn't he?” Brett asked, watching Danny's face carefully for a response.

Danny nodded. “I think he was okay with me. More than the others anyway.”

“Daredevil hasn't been very active recently. Or at least, the real Daredevil. I can only assume that any reports of Daredevil have been you, dressed up as him.”

Rand shrugged. “I can't say for sure.”

“Have you been in contact with Daredevil since the events at Midland Circle?”

Rand shook his head. “It's not really a working relationship. More once and done.”

“And what exactly happened at Midland Circle? Was it truly unpermitted construction?”

“That's what I heard.”

Brett narrowed his eyes. “I'm sure that's what you heard. That's what all the newspapers reported, that's what Trish talk said, hell, it was even the report that was sent to police. I'm asking you what really happened.”

“We saved the world,” Danny said simply.

“By dropping a building into the earth?”

The woman got up from the bed. “I think that's probably enough.”

“Colleen,” Danny protested. “I can handle this on my own.”

The woman, Colleen, shot Danny a look. “Not another word,” she hissed to him. “I think we're done here.”

Brett looked between them.

“Unless you're arresting Danny, in which case he's not going to talk until he has a lawyer,” she snapped.

“If it's a lawyer you want, I know a good one. Matt Murdock. Only the thing is, no one has seen him since he went missing from a Harlem precinct.”

 

That did it. Danny paled and Colleen yanked at Brett's arm and shoved him towards the door.

“Out!” she ordered. “You want to talk, you come back with a warrant.”

Brett left, but over his shoulder, he saw Danny's eyes fill with tears.

 

Interesting. What was it about Matt that made Danny so upset? From what Brett gathered, they'd never met, nor would they have any reason to. The law firm that Rand's company used was...

Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz.

_Nelson._

 

He didn't bother with a call this time, just went right to the source.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He waved his badge at Nelson's assistant, who tried to object, and let himself into Nelson's office.

 

“Brett?” he asked, looking up. His hair was shorter than the last time Brett had seen him. It was like he was slowly assimilating into what a lawyer was supposed to look like.

“Nelson,” he replied, taking a seat.

“Um, I'm working right now Brett. You want to maybe grab a coffee or something? I'm free next-”

“No,” Brett said simply. “We talk now.”

Nelson frowned, but folded up the file he was working on and sat forward in his chair. “Okay Brett. What did you want to talk about?”

“I've just come from visiting Danny Rand,” Brett said.

Nelson didn't blink.

“I know he's pretty famous by that name, but you might also know him as the guy with the glowing hand. Apparently he goes by Iron Fist, which is a stupid name if you ask me. Ringing any bells?”

Foggy frowned. “A vigilante?”

“Something like that,” Brett agreed. “That's not even the most interesting thing. Rand admitted to being involved with Midland Circle, admitted to knowing Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, and Daredevil.”

“More vigilantes. So?”

“So, he didn't seem too bothered by Daredevil not being around much lately, said something about him retiring.”

“If you recall, Daredevil was retired before this whole thing happened,” Nelson pointed out.

“Sure, sure,” Brett agreed. “I was fine with that. Well, not exactly fine, but, you know, whatever. It was when I brought up your old business partner that things started to go sideways.”

“Matt?” Foggy asked.

It might have been Brett's imagination, but he thought Nelson looked slightly paler.

“Yeah. I mention Matt Murdock's name, and Danny looks like he's seen a ghost and starts crying. When a name does that to a guy, I gotta think it means something bad has happened, maybe even something that he's involved with.”

“Okay...” Nelson said slowly. “Sure. Why come to me then?”

“Well I figure that Rand never had any reason to meet Murdock, probably didn't run in any of the same groups, or even have any of the same acquaintances. Except for you.”

“Me?” Nelson asked.

Brett nodded. “When Rand returned and tried to prove he was who he said he was, no one believed him. But Jeri Hogarth took on the case. You know, the firm you're working for?”

Nelson scoffed. “What are you trying to say Brett?”

Brett shrugged. “Nothing. Just pointing out some facts. Like the fact that Murdock hasn't been seen for over two months now, ever since he went missing from that police station. And like the fact that you and all of his other friends don't seem to be too worried about that, which makes me think you know something I don't. Like the fact that you've had contact, either directly or indirectly, with the two people who had been the ones to take Murdock from that police station.”

Nelson rolled his eyes. “So what? You're accusing me of something? None of this will stand up in court, not that it will ever make it to court.”

“Look around Nelson. This isn't court. This is just the investigation. And right now, it's looking a hell of a lot like a murder investigation. You know about those, right? Statistically, it's usually someone close to the victim.”

“Don't call him that,” Foggy snapped.

“And guess what Nelson. You're top of the list.”

Foggy stood up, face red, fists clenched. Brett rose too, having the advantage of height.

“Get out,” Foggy growled. “Don't make me call security.”

Brett turned and stalked out of Nelson's office, but before leaving, turned. “I'm going to find out what happened to Murdock. And I think that's exactly what you're afraid of.”

He left, but not before he saw Nelson's face fall as he collapsed back into his chair, the fight suddenly gone.

 

Brett really didn't want to think that the guy he'd known since kindergarten, the guy who gave his mom cigars and left a job at a fancy firm to open up a law office with his partner to help the little guy, didn't want to think that guy could be capable of killing.

But the picture that the puzzle pieces were making didn't lie.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brett couldn't get to sleep. He was stuck on what was possibly the most annoying puzzle in his life, even worse than the puzzle he'd gotten for Christmas one year that was entirely one colour with extra pieces. At least he knew that one had a solution. This puzzle had missing pieces all over the place and the investigation just kept hitting dead ends everywhere he turned. None of Murdock's friends would talk to him. His best guess was that Murdock's best friend killed him, which didn't seem to fit right. Every lead he had led nowhere.

Hell, even Daredevil was nowhere to be found. Between him and Murdock, it seemed like people were just disappearing left and right. Of course, they both disappeared around the same time, so maybe it was connected?

 

Brett sat upright in bed.

“That goddamn son of a bitch,” he swore into the darkness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What the fuck Brett?” Foggy swore, squinting at him. “It's three in the morning. Come to arrest me or accuse me or whatever? Can't it wait til the sun's up?”

Brett let himself in, flicking the lights on, and sitting down at Nelson's kitchen table. He'd upgraded a bit, since he now had a kitchen table.

“Yeah, well, it's the hour of realizations.”

“Yeah?” Foggy sighed.

Brett nodded. “I know who Daredevil is.”

Foggy frowned at him. “You figure out who Daredevil is, and you show up at my door at 3am? I'm sure as hell not Daredevil. Why aren't you out there arresting him?”

“Cause it's a little hard to arrest a man who's missing,” Brett told him.

 

With that, Nelson deflated, collapsing into a chair across from Brett. He seemed so much more exhausted than he had a second ago.

 

“It's Murdock, isn't it?” Brett said gently.

Foggy nodded. “Yeah. Matt's... Yeah,” he breathed.

“I get all the secrecy now. No one could know that Matt went missing at the same time that Daredevil disappeared. But I know now man. You can tell me. Where is he?”

Foggy choked. “Midland Circle.”

Brett sat back like he'd been slapped.

 

Daredevil had been at Midland Circle. Daredevil hadn't been seen since Midland Circle. Matt Murdock went missing from the Harlem precinct and Daredevil appeared. Neither had been seen since.

 

Across the table, Foggy was sobbing.

And no wonder; his best friend was dead and he'd had to hide it for months.

 

Brett put a hand on his shoulder and wondered how he'd managed to miss it for so long.

 

* * *

 

Brett made tea while Nelson tried to compose himself.

 

“You know, he stopped doing it, then all this shit happened and of course he went back to it. You know, I actually thought he wouldn't.”

Nelson laughed, but it was halfway to a sob.

“I thought that he was happy, that he was doing well in his life without it. But he wasn't, of course.”

Foggy shook his head.

“You know, I got the suit to him that day. I practically gave him my blessing to go out and die.”

“He saved a lot of people. There's no telling how many,” Brett said gently.

“Yeah. But of all the people he saved, I knew he'd never be one. And then they came back to the police station, and I kept waiting for Matt to walk back through that door, give me a stupid smile, maybe have a new scar or something. But he didn't. And I realized he wasn't going to.”

He wiped at his face.

“Danny told me later, that Matt told him something while they were down there, just before he sent them up in the elevator. Because he knew he wasn't going to get out. That asshole knew he wasn't going to make it out of there. He just left everyone else to deal with the fallout. For someone who was so selfless, he was damn selfish.”

 

Yeah, Brett understood that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he got home, Brett closed the unofficial file he'd been working on for months.

 

In the end, Brett had been right. Murdock had been a murder victim. The culprit hadn't been one of his friends, hadn't been a vigilante, hadn't been someone who'd kidnapped him. He wasn't even murdered directly. Instead, he'd been killed by a literal underground organization that he managed to stop, saving the world in the process. There was no one for Brett to arrest, no justice to be found. The pawns of that organization had died down there with Murdock, the leaders dead or dying or far beyond his reaches.

 

Another case solved, another suspicion that turned out to be true, but god, sometimes Brett hated being right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay, remember! Matt's not actually dead! Everything will be fine!
> 
> Just not here.


End file.
